Boy Scouts of America
by Narkito
Summary: In 3x10 "Huakaʻi Kula" (Field Trip), Danny says he got kicked out of the boy scouts, but doesn't say why. So I conjured up a rather angsty story about the why. WARNINGS for a few homophobic lines delivered by certain characters of the story. So yeah, I went that way.
1. PART I

**Notes:**

1) This story contains some McDanno, but doesn't focus on it.

2) Some context in case you know nothing about Boy Scouts of America. It's mostly run by people who've been scouts before. Everybody, except administrative staff, are volunteers. You have the "adults" who may or may not have been in the organisation before (although mostly have been), and they are called "scouters" they guide, but not quite lead, leading is left to the leaders of the troop, meaning it's the actual kids that do the work, scouters are there to make sure nobody catches fire or starts a wild fire (kinda); you have the Cubmaster (adult guide to the cubs: kiddos 6 to 11 years old) and then the Scoutmaster (adult guide to the actual boy scouts: boys aged 10 to 18). There is the troop (the whole unit, cubs and scouts) and patrols (usually up to 10 scouts/cubs each), patrols have leaders (kiddos, not adults). And scouters have assistants (again, kiddos, not adults).

The other stuff is pretty much easy to figure out once you read it. I lost all my detailed notes about the subject, because I actually went and researched how it would've been back in '92 and a few things have changed since then, so if the name of a patch or a Scout Class doesn't quite ring true, that might be the reason. That's it, that's the info dump you may (or may not) have needed.

* * *

 **PART I**

 **#01  
**

He is excited, there is no other way of putting it, he doesn't remember being this excited about going out since before Billy die— since before Billy. Period. He's older now, sure, and that might be part of it, _or_ it could be due to the fact that Frederick Johnson has invited him, pushed him even, to join the Scouts and now they're going camping for the weekend. Gosh, he feels like such a goof for calling _Freddie_ by his full name in his head. He met Freddie at his dad's station, nephew of another fireman, then he saw him again at a barbecue and that's when Danny got talking with him, a week later he got invited over to play some Mario Bros at his house and they were set; immediate friends. Freddie went on and on about this group he went to and he made it sound so _cool_ and fun, that Danny eventually relented and decided to check out this whole Boy Scouts of America thing. Turned out they were pretty badass. He got the square knot figured out within the week and all the rest was a piece of cake, especially getting both his parents to sign him up. And what do you know, the next time they meet is for a day trip, he couldn't recite the Scout Oath fast enough. They went out and some boy whose name he won't divulge, snuck ribs into the picnic and they were delicious. There was so much to see and so many things to do; he barely gets a sense of who's who that day. And now? Now they're going for five day trip to a park as a last hurrah to summer.

His parents had been excited for him. His dad took him out and bought him a pocket knife _'but don't tell Ma how expensive it was, yeah?'_ not that there was any way to fool his mother, she knew exactly how much that knife had been, but it was okay, because they hadn't seen him light up like this for a long time and the expense was worth it. And back home his Ma had taken him aside and given him a soft, wore-in jacket, "my dad's" she said, "so you don't get cold at night". It was a leather monstrosity that was aching to an aviator jacket, with warm fleece on the inside and tons of pockets, and Danny had _loved it_. He thought it made him look _cool_ and was also able to savor the little treasure that had been trusted upon him, he had given his Ma a one-armed hug as he held the jacket close to his heart with the other.

Danny checks his backpack for the tenth time and calls it a night, there's only so much worrying he can do before it turns obsessive and ends with him rubbing tiredness out of his eyes at ten o'clock in the morning. This time he will not worry, he will just _be_. It feels like such a pivotal moment of his life and he sure hopes the whole trip lives up to the expectation. He gives one last look at his things, turns the lights out and goes to sleep.

 **#02**

The alarm feels like a drill to his forehead, but a second after, he remembers why he's getting up so early and this overwhelming sense of giddiness washes over him; he leaps out of bed. He looks to the other side of the room and realizes Mattie's already up, which is quite a feat for his younger brother, he might be the more energetic one, but, boy, can that kid sleep. Danny doesn't see him on his way to the shower either, so he just figures he must be enjoying the morning cartoons downstairs.

Once he's finished putting on his uniform, Danny heads downstairs, where the table's already set and his breakfast is almost ready. Both his parents are waiting for him, his Ma is wearing her robe tied tight around her waist with a smile on her lips, and his Pop is ready to go drop him off at the bus, there's no sign of his sisters, although he can tell by the noise that Mattie is in fact sprawled in front of the TV, binging on morning cartoons and what sounds like the whole box of cereal.

"You excited, son?" His father asks, clapping him on the back.

"Yeah, I know we won't be long in the wilderness, but yeah."

His father chuckles, "Danny, bathroom and a place to shower in the morning can hardly be called wilderness." Danny snorts back in response.

His mother puts a steaming cup in front of him, accompanied by toast and eggs, the smell of coffee strong in his nostrils.

"We figured you could use extra help this morning, you're not an early riser after all." His mother tells him.

And yeah, true, especially because the last weeks of summer are meant to be spent lazing around, so he's glad for the gentle bending of an otherwise stern rule. _No coffee until you're fifteen_. He's a couple of months away anyway.

"Did you pack socks?" His Ma asks.

"Mmm."

"An extra pair too?"

"Mmm." He nods a bit to make sure his Ma is getting the message.

"Underwear?"

"Ma, I got it; it's fine," Danny says in between mouthfuls.

"No son of mine will be caught wearing dirty underwear!" She answers, hand on hip.

"Ma! It's fine, I'll just wear them backwards."

"Hey," his dad interjects, "no disrespecting your mom's coddling, she does it because she cares." His Ma playfully hits his dad on the arm, but there's not heat behind it.

"Yes, Ma, I packed enough, it's only for four nights."

"All right, all right. Did you pack a flashlight?"

" _Pop!_ " Danny yelps, bordering on exasperation.

"Clara, my love, he'll be fine, if he gets lost all he has to do is give them a shout, he'll have the whole campsite looking for him in no time, this one." His Pop then turns to look at him. "You ready yet, or what?"

Danny drinks the last of his coffee and stands up. "Yeah, I'm ready."

He gives his Ma a hug and a kiss. "Say goodbye to the goofs upstairs for me," he tells her. His Ma kisses his cheek and then immediately rubs him there, as if she had left a mark.

"Will do, honey, hope you guys catch a nice dinner. Mattie," she adds a bit louder, "say goodbye to your brother."

A hand rises from the couch, only visible from the elbow up, accompanied by Mattie's sing song voice. "Goodbye, brother. If you die I get the room for myself."

"Shut up, you jer—" Danny manages to stop himself before he completes that phrase, his mother already frowning at him. Oh, what the hell. "You regurgitated tadpole!"

Mattie sniggers, amused by the insult, but his father turns Danny around and practically marches him to the door, his Ma shakes her head, amused despite herself, as they step outside.

The ride to the meeting place is uneventful, the only piece of advice his father gives him is the same he has been giving him since he was six: if push comes to shove, hit first, hit hard.

As soon as he gets out of the car he spots Freddie. Danny tries to shoulder his bag and wave his dad goodbye at the same time, but his Pop is having none of it, he takes the keys out of the ignition and steps into the chaos that is almost twenty teenage boys saying their goodbyes and trying to fit their camping gear into a school bus.

Danny has no other option than to trail behind him; he should've known better than to try and ditch him.

"Relax, kid, just gonna say hello to the grownups," his dad says as he makes a beeline for one of the Scouters, Danny also says his helloes and claps his buddies on the back, getting into the groove of camaraderie, he's about to finally ( _finally_ ) go say hello to Freddie when his Pop steps into his line of vision and blocks his path.

"One last hug for your old man? Or you getting too old for this?"

 _Never._

Danny gives the best possible answer and latches his arms around his father, squeezing until he hears something pop. His father part groans part chuckles and with one last bump to the arm, leaves him be, getting into the car and driving away.

" _That your dad?"_

Danny perks up immediately, turning around to greet Freddie.

"Yeah, he is."

Freddie gives Danny's bag a once over and whistles.

"That one hell of an antique you got there, where did you get it?"

Danny is momentarily confused as to what Freddie is referring to: the bag, the jacket he managed to jam around a shoulder strap, or something else.

"I mean the jacket, Williams. Jesus, you really are slow in the mornings, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I did warn you, I'm not a morning person, you know? Where's your stuff?"

"Already in the bus, some of us had the decency of showing up early and helped with putting shit together and stuff."

"Yeah, you talk big, Freddie, but remember I've seen your room, I know how things really are."

Freddie takes Danny's bag and shoulders it, making a show of weighing it before he puts it on.

"See you packed light, thought you were going to be one of those over-worriers that think they gonna need everything and pack stupid."

"How can you possibly pack stupid?" Danny raises his eyebrows in doubt and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Hey, I once had to save a kid's math book from the fire pit. He thought he might have trouble sleeping or get bored or some shit, so he brought it _just in case_."

Danny smiles and traps part of his bottom lip between teeth and tongue. "Yeah, packing stupid, I can see it now."

Freddie takes the leather jacket and hands it to Danny, as he unceremoniously drops the camping bag next to the bus.

"You either put it on or stuff it into the bag, no loose shit inside the bus."

"Do you know any word other than 'shit' to refer to stuff? Like, you know, _'stuff'_?"

"Not the shitty answer I was looking for, Danny." Freddie crosses his arm over his chest and leans into the bus.

"I'll just lay it over all the other bags right before we leave." He makes a smoothing motion with his hands, like that would totally clarify his intentions and make them acceptable for Freddie.

"Nu-uh, if you need help making room for it, I can help, but this is my zone," he says pointing to the pile of stuff inside. "I make the rules; I don't need you whining about your jacket later because it got scratched or torn or whatever."

"Yeah? Who died and put you in charge?"

"No riots either, that's another rule," says Freddie, taking the jacket from Danny's hand and crouching. He opens Danny's bag and in less than a minute he has rearranged half its contents and made enough space to fit a whole lot more than a jacket inside. He zips it up and wrestles it into the designated area. "There, done. You're welcome."

"Yeah, yeah." Danny, points a finger to Freddie's chest. "You see, I can't believe you can play real-life Tetris and make it look so easy, but are completely unable to put your room back together."

Freddie puffs his chest out, batting Danny's hand away.

"I could if I wanted to."

"Bet you would if there was a patch for it."

Freddie makes a noncommittal noise and shrugs his shoulders. "Maybe." He adds as an afterthought.

"I'm so telling your mom next time you have me over."

"Ugh, please don't."

Danny is settling quite nicely into this back and forth when a whistle shifts his attention to the Scoutmaster, who is beckoning the troop towards him.

"Alright, alright. Unless there's anybody here who hasn't put his gear away, I think we're ready. Patrol leaders, we good?"

"Yeah," comes James' answer, quickly followed by Freddie's thumbs up. The Cubmaster searches amongst the cubs for any sign of trouble and after a few pointed looks between the denners in charge; they both give the thumbs up to the Cubmaster, who in turn nods to the Scoutmaster.

"Okay, good. I hope you're all excited to be having this late summer trip." A few scouts whoop, the Scoutmaster chortles and goes on. "Alright, I have two things to say before the leaders shoo me off, first, I was asked from upstairs to remind you we don't want a repeat of the last overnight trip incident, so please, please, please, be safe when handling fire. And second, as you all know, Rick got sick over the week so I'm one assistant short, so if you guys could get me an assistant before we arrive, that would be great. Thank you." The Scoutmaster steps aside and Freddie goes up front to address the troop.

"Alright, people, I was thinking Pauley might be up for sub-assistant of the trip? We can talk about it on the bus. Just remember it can be anyone except Danny who needs to learn the ropes first, yeah? You alright, Danny?"

The whole troop cheers on and Danny hasn't felt this good in public in a long time.

Freddie is pretty precise and to the point, reminding everyone of the overall schedule of the trip and beckoning the other leaders to discuss minor tasks amongst themselves. Shortly after, the troop breaks into Cubs and Boy Scouts, Freddie and James makes sure to drill them about behaving well, nice and proper around the cubs, giving special emphasis to the fact that it's only 8 of them now, after the fire incident, so they don't want a repeat of that. Danny doesn't even dare to ask.

 **#03**

The park is huge. The bus dropped them off the closest it could to the camping site, since the trails are not wide enough for it, and now they're walking, the pots clanging against each other every now and then. The sun is already high in the sky and it's getting hot, Danny can feel sweat starting to pool at the base of his neck, but he's happy. They exchange funny tales from school and other trips, although Danny has the suspicion they've already told this stories a dozen times and now they're just repeating them for his sake. He smiles and laughs from the bottom of his heart, his side hurting from the effort.

When they get to their assigned spot, they break into patrols, each leader assigning different tasks; a few of them go help the cubs. After they clean up the site, Freddie and Danny unpack their tent and set it up, it starts looking kind of crooked, but after Danny starts to listen and actually follow Freddie's directions, it gets better until it turns habitable.

"All right, Danny boy, get your gear in here, make sure it doesn't have too much dirt and close up shop before you go outside." Freddie gestures to the tent entrance and steps outside. "I'll go see about cooking duties."

Danny uses the time to push his gear deep into a corner of the tent and change into a t-shirt, clip his pocket knife on his belt and rummage around for his cap. Once he's done, he zips up the tent closed and heads towards the rest of the patrol.

"So, who's up for water duty?" A couple of kids raise their hands. "Scott and Ben, cool. Chris? You up for it too? Alright. Fire? Okay, Dave and Tom. Henry, can you go see if the cubs need help with anything, we have their back for lunch, the other patrol for dinner. And that leaves me and Danny for actual cooking. Somebody against?"

"Just don't burn it this time," says Henry, hitting Scott in the chest. Both of them snigger.

Something somber flashes across Freddie's face for a split second, but he quickly recovers.

"Nah, Henry, you're obviously not remembering this correctly, I wasn't in charge that time, but hey, who cares now, right? I'm sure Danny here knows how to grill a few things."

The guys set out to do their chores and so do Freddie and Danny. First get the supplies and then start preparing them; the menu for the day is grilled hot dogs with a side of salad. Oh yes, Danny's about to willingly eat his greens today.

Freddie is quick and proficient with the knife, opening the packages and slicing open the bread, Danny is a bit awkward with the lettuce and tomatoes, but he manages to make enough salad for the patrol without too much fuss. Danny grabs a plate filled to the brim with hot dogs and walks to the grill; Freddie follows him with a plate of buns, Tom and Dave coming to meet them, smelling of smoke and black smudges on their faces.

Lunch is served fairly quickly. The hot dogs are done to perfection, if Danny says so himself, and the Scoutmaster congratulates the patrol on a job well done, after taking a huge bite out of his meal. They're sitting on a picnic table that's a bit small to hold nine people. Danny's squished in between Freddie's lanky figure, that's mostly elbows and wobbly knees against his own; and Dave, a sturdy thirteen-year old with a triangular back that makes Danny feel small in comparison, even though Dave is less than half an inch taller. Danny eats with his elbows tucked to his sides, his cap resting on his lap, a loose strand of hair ticklish against his forehead.

"Freddie, which patch you working on now?" Asks Henry, a high school senior that looks like he might get all the babes.

Freddie shrugs and moves his head side to side, in mock hesitation.

"Umm, I haven't decided yet. I was thinking First Aid to Animals and start with you."

There's laughter all around and Henry shakes his head.

"You're so not making it to Life with that attitude," says Henry, followed quickly by an elongated 'ooh' from the rest of the patrol, Danny included.

Freddie raises his hands, palm to the front in amicable surrender.

"Sorry, man, I saw an opening and I had to take it."

After lunch is done and everything is put away and taken care of, everybody gets an hour and a half to themselves, which means time to explore, laze around and play. Danny takes that time to quiz Freddie about patches and how to earn them. Forty minutes later he's still fuzzy about the subject and all talked out, but he's having the time of his life throwing rocks at the lake with Freddie besides him running commentary on his stone skipping skills.

"No, man, you gotta sling that arm way back and lay it low, parallel to the ground. Ugh, that was ugly, man, that was terrible!"

"Look, if you think you can do it better, then do it, but I don't see you picking up any stones, so what? You only good for talking now?"

Freddie buries his hands in his shorts pockets and shrugs, with an expression that's neither here nor there.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," says Danny, adjusting his cap, before fishing another flat stone from his pocket. Danny loves to skip stones, and it's been a long while since he last indulged in it, he's a bit rusty, his arm growing rapidly tired, but he's enjoying himself, so he won't let Freddie's intrusive remarks ruin it for him.

Danny straightens to watch his rock skip away from him, he counts six skips before it sinks and turns to Freddie with a satisfied grin, but Freddie is no longer paying attention to him, he's got his back to the lake and a hand shading his eyes, watching someone walk down the trail a hundred yards away.

"Is that Henry?" Asks Danny.

"Yeah, I think so, look he's waving us over, let's go see what he wants. I'll race you for it." Freddie breaks into a lazy sprint and Danny follows suit behind, a couple of rocks still in his pocket hitting him on the leg with each step.

"Yo, Freddie! James' putting together some games for the cubs, wanna come?"

"Sure, I'm tired of watching Danny throw stones anyway."

Henry snorts and says, "I bet you are, you can't throw even to save your life. Danny, don't believe a word he says, nothing but a poser this one." Danny laughs. "I'm rounding up the troop, so I'll catch up with you, have you seen Dave? It's the only one I haven't found yet."

"I think I saw him headed to the docks a while back," says Danny.

Henry contemplates the task at hand with a weary sigh, the docks nothing but a dark little square on the horizon.

"Damn, I'll be back eventually, I'm sure. See ya around."

Henry continues walking to the shore, as Danny and Freddie walk the other way.

 **#04**

"Hey, let's take a shortcut," says Freddie, pointing to small clearing of bushes. Danny gives him a quizzical look, eyebrows rising in question. "I used to come with my family all the time, I know this place, if we follow this old trail we can cut half a mile out of the hike, I swear, people don't use this path anymore, but that doesn't mean it won't lead us back to the campsite."

Freddie doesn't wait for Danny's answer and just steps into the bushes and starts without looking back, Danny has little choice than to follow.

"So let me get this straight, you claim that you got to level forty of duck hunter, even though when you were in my house the other day you barely made it to thirteen?"

"Yeah, I swear, I got a cousin that got grounded so her mom gave me the console for a month, I've been practicing. Even with Mattie teasing and pushing me around, I can make it to thirty, at the very least."

"Mattie's your brother, yeah?"

"Yeah, that's him. He pisses me off most of the time, but he's my brother. Only one I've got." Freddie bumps him on the shoulder with his own and smiles. He's about to ask Danny about the whole crazy aunt thing that basically sublet her daughter's console, when a noise ahead has him crouching and pushing Danny with him to the ground. Danny goes as far as opening his mouth, but Freddie shushes him.

There's rustling leaves ahead and two deep voices come through from the trees ahead.

" _This is far enough, don't you think? Nobody uses this trail anymore, I'm pretty sure if we got attacked by a wildcat they wouldn't even hear us call for help."_

" _Fine, fine, I'm just paranoid, having my kid with the cubs kinda puts me on the spot with the wife, you know? She thinks I quit weeks ago."_

It's the Scoutmaster and the Cubmaster; Freddie got scared over nothing. Danny turns to look at him and realizes Freddie's still got his hands on his shoulders. Freddie seems to realize at the same time and takes his hands out like Danny's shoulders are on fire, but they keep quiet and still. The Scouters are lighting up cigarettes, each one of them leaning on the trunk of a tree.

" _Oh, man, I'm so tired already; I don't know how I'm going to get up on Monday."_ That's the Scoutmaster talking.

" _I hear ya. Maybe we're getting too old for this, have you considered that?"_ Says the Cubmaster.

" _Oh, god no! Don't you get started too! I'm already surrounded by kids at work, I swear they keep getting younger, you know?"_

" _Sure, it's only the scouters that keep getting older."_

There's a puff of laughter, but it's impossible to know from whom, afterwards there's a lull in the conversation and Danny peeks over the bushes and tall grass to figure out what's going on, he manages to catch a glimpse of the rolled up jeans of the Cubmaster, and a whiff of smoke, before Freddie pulls him closer to him and down, conveying to him through pointed looks and chin motions, to start walking around the bushes to bypass the scouters.

" _Yeah, well, in a way,"_ says the Scoutmaster, _"it's about protecting the good name of the institution, you know? Like take that case with the Dale kid, we can't have guys like that looking out for the interests of the BSA, you know?"_

" _You mean the gay kid that got outted?"_

" _Yeah, that's the one."_

" _Right, I heard about the case, I think it got dismissed? Don't really know."_

" _Oh, no! The BSA told him exactly where he could stick it, but I hear he's trying to get the case to court. Can you imagine? The gall on that guy to even sue the BSA, what is he? Crazy? God made them Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve."_

" _Yeah, right. Sure,"_ says the Cubmaster in return.

Danny doesn't quite get who they're talking about, but he kind of gets _what it is_ about, and he doesn't want to hear more, not really. A heavy feeling sets in between his stomach and chest, like a fist that's constricting the airflow. He sidesteps a thorny bush and follows Freddie into a mesh of tall grass, bushes and low hanging branches, deep into the shadow; behind his back he can hear the scoutmasters finishing their smokes and heading back to the campsite.

Freddie walks in silence, setting a punishing pace that has them veering off the trail by a good fifty yards, when Danny asks about how long until they get there, Freddie, in a rather succinct fashion, tells him it will take them however long it takes them. By the time they break through the fringe of the forest, they come out even closer to the game area than originally intended, where the troop is engaging in a fierce tournament of capturing the flag. Danny and Freddie join opposite teams, cheer on their teammates and try not to land flat on their asses when running on loose dirt, soon enough the heavy feeling from before is forgotten.

 **#05**

Danny sort of stumbles into the enemy's flag, at some point during the longest game of capture the flag that he has ever played –probably because it has like a dozen more players than what he's used to— he takes a turn walking towards the general direction of where he thinks the jail is and he finds it. It's a balled up blue sweater with a belt around it for good measure, in case it wasn't obvious enough. He catches a little bit of it sticking out from behind a rock, the fuzz of the wool glistening in the afternoon sun.

He looks around and squints against the shadowy space between trees, but sees nothing, or rather no one, he runs towards the flag, grabs it and keeps on running; maybe he'll find a team mate, maybe he'll find jail, maybe he'll stumble back into his own field by mistake, very much so like he got to the flag in first place, whatever happens, it's something better than wait by the flag until he gets caught. There are voices and whooping behind the densest area of bushes, so he veers off towards that place, when he gets the distinct feeling he's being watched and someone jumps him from behind.

"Tag! You're it, shitface," says Freddie, pressing him to the ground. The _flag_ gets bunched up under his belly, the belt buckle digging into his ribs. His hand is trapped under him too, his wrist bearing the brunt of their combined weights.

"Get off my back, you animal," he replies, letting some indignation seep into his voice; Freddie just tackled him hard into the ground, and it _hurt_.

Danny can sense Freddie's about to say something else, when a whistle sounds beyond the bushes, three short blows, followed by three long ones and three short ones again. Then somebody yells: "cub down!" and Freddie scrambles up so fast up, Danny barely has the conscience of mind to do the same to avoid being trampled on.

A couple of cubs stumble from behind –Danny never knew they were there— towards the commotion and he does the same, holding onto the balled up sweater. When he and Freddie reach the other side of the bushes there's a kid on the ground, with red rimmed eyes and the Scoutmaster is crouching beside him, removing one of his sneakers.

 **#06**

"It ain't broken, that's for sure," he says to the kid. Jeff, his mind supplies, but Danny's so-so with names, it might be Julio for all he knows.

Turned out the kid –his name's Mike actually— twisted his ankle and fell, so Pauley, acting assistant extraordinaire, took him on his back to the campsite, where most of the cubs pitched in on what sort of first aid should be administered. After Mike's settled under the shade, looking slightly less miserable than before, a cold compress on his ankle, Freddie's patrol sets to help the cubs on mastering a few knots. Meanwhile James' patrol works on getting dinner going.

Danny sits down next to a cub that sports a determined sort of frown on his face and copies to the best of his abilities the movements he's making, until he finds himself with a crooked "cat's paw" on his hands.

The day's been great, it's finally refreshing, the sun about to set behind the trees, his face's a bit taut around the smile lines, and that feels new and good, amazing actually. Something twists deep in Danny's belly and he never wants this day to end.

That night, he goes into the tent and falls asleep in a matter of seconds.

 **#07**

He wakes up way too early by the level of luminosity filtering into the tent. Not quite day, not night either, something aching closer to dawn. He's not shivering (yet), but he just knows he's about to, he feels hot on the inside, but way too cold on the outside and he soon comes to find the reason; his sleeping bag has slid under him, below his waist. He knows he's a restless sleeper, but this is verging on ridiculous, how the hell did he manage to unzip the bag and end up sleeping practically on the floor of the tent? He tries to cover himself again, as quiet as possible and with as efficient movements as he can manage, trying really hard not to wake Freddie up. It's useless, Freddie's a very light sleeper, as he has had the pleasure of finding out by staying at his house a couple of times.

"The fuck, Danny?" Comes his raspy voice, barely out of the stages of sleep.

"Sorry. Sorry. I just— sorry, go back to sleep." He apologizes as he wraps his bag over his shoulders.

"Okay," says Freddie almost in a whisper, like he's already drifting back.

A couple of minutes go by, but Danny finds it impossible to generate enough heat and just like he predicted before, he starts shivering, doing his best not to let his teeth clatter.

There's the sound of a zipper, the rustle of clothes and Freddie scoots closer to Danny, sleeping bag and all, fumbling with Danny's zipper and then Freddie's arm hugs him around the middle and presses him into his chest.

"Sleep. Now. Or I'll end you," says Freddie and that's that. He allows himself a minute to appreciate how warmth pools at the bottom of his stomach and at the back of his legs and then he's out.

Next time he wakes up he's alone in the tent, hot as a furnace, the sun is lighting up the entire thing and he can't decide whether last night happened or not. The rest of the day passes by in a flurry of semi-structured exploring activities, which include putting his pocket knife to the test. A lot. Specially once they find the remains of an old hunting cabin burnt to the ground and he has the pleasure of digging up melted glass out of ashes and carbonized wood. Aside of all the activities, he's also playing catch up with all the scout knowledge he needs to learn and memorize to earn a fuckton of patches and move upward and forward on the path. Once again he spends the entire day grinning like a goof until his face aches.

 **#08**

There's a slow late summer breeze that crosses the field and makes the tents flap lazily every now and then. Danny fishes out his jacket from their tent and slips it on, burrowing his hands into the side pockets. He takes a quick look at himself and decides to change into jeans as well; whatever James' patrol has prepared took them quite a while, so it might take a while to deliver it too.

The whole troop has assembled in a semi-circle around the fire pit, and to the other side, there's a makeshift branch structure that holds a few blankets like a theater curtain. There's a sign on the curtain that reads "RADIO THEATRE" in all caps with the neatest scrawl Danny has seen in his life outside of his Ma's, but she's a teacher, so it doesn't really count.

Freddie comes from somewhere to his left and passes besides him, plopping himself near the cubs. Danny's hands curl inside his pockets, hot and sweaty. Freddie looks up and raises his eyebrows to Danny, as if saying ' _what are you waiting for?_ ', to drive his point home, he even pats the space next to him, putting on a fake pleasant smile that fools no one. Danny purposefully unclenches his fists and moves forward. Freddie taps him on the shoulder with his own, and offers him a genuine smile of satisfaction.

After the cubs and scouts have settled down and found their places, James walks in front of the curtain and waits for everybody to quiet down.

"Good night and welcome to the first radio theater of our beloved troop. Narrating on this fine summer night will be Arty, as Martin!"

The whole troop erupts in claps and then laughter when Arty takes center stage in a somewhat wrinkled blazer and a bowtie made out of green leaves and tied around his bare neck with a piece of yellowish string.

"Pauley as Richard!"

Pauley walks besides Arty and makes a swirl with his hand as he bows, the troop claps again.

"And yours truly as Caroline!"

James curtseys as if wearing a make believe dress and takes his place next to Pauley. The troop claps and laughs as the narrators take their scripts out of pockets and arrange folding chairs near the curtain. Arty squints hard at his script shaking his head and turns to James who in turn shrugs his shoulders.

"Lights!" says Arty as he snaps his fingers. A hand appears from the slit of the blankets holding a basket, the three narrators take something from it and the hand disappears back into darkness.

"Ah! This will do," says James and turns a flashlight in his hand, turning it on in unison with Pauley and Arty, the audience chuckles.

An old tune starts playing, the kind Danny has heard his granddad play on his old record player and like that, the play starts.

" _Mom! Mooooom! Have you seen my keys?"_

" _Why not," says James in a falsetto so high in pitch it's ridiculous in itself; there're a few scattered snorts of laughter around the audience._ _"My dearest Martin, what keys are we talking about?"_

" _About yay-big, golden in color, often used to open the car."_

There's a key rattle from behind the curtain.

" _You mean these keys?"_

" _How did you know they were in my pocket?" Arty sounds baffled._

"I didn't. I saw them sticking out of your pocket."

There's a bark that sounds a lot like it's coming from a smallish dog.

" _What is that beast doing in my car?!"_ asks James, sounding horrified, which is pretty hard to pull off in character with a falsetto.

" _Aw, chucks, remember when you said I should never ever, under any circumstances, bring a dog into the house?"_

" _Martin, love of my life, please tell me this isn't going where I think it's going."_

" _Well, the good news is it never set a paw inside the house, look at her, she spent the whole night in here"_

The keys rattle again accompanied by a rather fierce growl from Pauley.

" _Argh, it is morning already?"_

James yelps.

" _And who is that?"_

" _Oh, right, that's the gentleman that came attached to the dog."_

" _What?!"_

" _But it's alright, you see, because Sofia was never alone during the night, and she didn't feel lonely, at all."_

There's more barking as Pauley does one spectacular yawn and stretches over his head.

" _Ma'am, is this your boy?"_ Pauley delivers his line as if annoyed.

" _Oh, god, I can feel a headache coming, what's he done now?"_

" _He took me and my dog hostage for the night,"_ Pauley deadpans.

" _Arty! I mean, Martin!"_ The audience chuckles again, some of the cubs sniggering behind hands and looking at each other with glee in their eyes. Danny grins so wide his cheeks ache.

The nonsense progresses from one ridiculous situation to another, it has the whole troop in stitches every ten seconds or so. Danny has to swipe tears out of his eyes in some scenes, clutching his belly with both hands as Arty plays the most nuanced performance of absurd theater he has ever had the pleasure of listening to. Ever. This radio play even trumps his uncle's M-rated stories after he gets plastered and thinks the kids have gone to bed, and boy, that's saying something. When they're done, the makeshift curtains open, revealing an assortment of objects from pots and pans to recorders, a patch of gravel and scrunching leaves, a bucket of water and a dozen other things. The whole troop cheers and claps earnestly, the narrators bow to the audience, half of Arty's leaf bowtie floats gently to the ground. Next comes the sound effects crew, they step into the stage area and bow too.

"That… was… incredible!" says Danny to no one in particular. Next to him a couple of cubs are recounting their favorite bits in between bouts of laughter.

"Yeah, that was the shit," says Freddie. He then turns to Danny and grins like a goof.


	2. PART II

**#09**

The temperature has dropped one or two degrees since the radio play ended, but with his belly full of grilled meat, Danny is about to hit the sweet, warm spot of post-meal satisfaction. He's looking at the sky, tracing with his eyes the few constellations he knows; there's Orion, the hunter that dared say he was going to kill every animal in sight; then there's Gemini, with Castor and Pollux, which are the only stars he actually knows by name; and finally, if he's doing this correctly, there should be the Big Dipper somewhere to his left… or maybe a lot more to his left… or not at all.

"You daydreaming on the job?" Says Freddie, coming from behind him. Danny, who's been doing his best to wash the dishes without getting too lost in the sky or his own giddy feelings of contentment, splashes some dishwater right into Freddie's sweatshirt and smirks. "Oh, now it's on!" Says Freddie, and off he goes, trying to gain access to the dishwater, as Danny does his best blocking his path and managing to get Freddie's clothes even more wet, as he basically dries his hands and forearms on him every time he touches him.

Eventually Freddie gives up on his plan, and reroutes his efforts towards Danny and Danny's hands. He grabs one hand by the wrist, but Danny fights dirty and pokes him hard on the ribs with the other. Danny's laughter comes from deep within and leaves him lightheaded as it goes out. Freddie seizes the moment to grab both of Danny's wrists at once and holds him in place, by counteracting Danny's advances and yanks with opposing force.

"Fine, fine, I give up, Freddie, Jesus, you gonna break me if you keep that up." There's isn't real heat behind Danny's words, though. This is all said in giggles an huffs of laughter.

"You hereby surrender to your one and true leader, then?"

"Never!" Says Danny and twists one of his arms free, using the momentum of surprise to grab Freddie's hand, and using his own free one to put Freddie into a headlock.

"Shit, where did you learn that one, Danny, my man?! Fuck!"

"Please, you're an only child, you have zero experience with tickle fights."

"What do you mean _tickle_ fights?" Freddie has a wide-eyed thing going on, an barely finishes voicing his concern, before Danny starts tickling him on his neck, with the same hand that has him on a headlock. With the other, he makes advances towards Freddie's armpits and general chest area.

Freddie uses his last-resort self-defense move and just melts into the ground, sliding against Danny's arms and legs like an overcooked spaghetti. He's gasping and laughing at the same time. A fruitless effort into regaining composure. Danny falls to his knees besides Freddie, balancing himself on his chest, noting how hot Freddie's sweatshirt is beneath his hand.

And then it's like the whole world shifts around them. The washing area disappears into the background, the stars above seem brighter, and the moon acts as a spotlight. Freddie locks eyes with Danny, and Danny grabs Freddie's sweatshirt so hard, it bunches up under his palm once Freddie finally straightens and sits up on the dirt, exposing slivers of the chest and tummy beneath. Freddie looks from Danny's eyes to his lips, as a little bit of tongue peaks out, and Danny can feel little pebbles digging into his knees as he leans into Freddie. What comes next only feels like a natural progression of everything they've done together for the past three months.

Freddie's lips are soft against Danny's, and he can smell Freddie's cologne, under all the sweat and dirt of a fun day at the park. He's about to take it a bit further, running his tongue ever so gently on Freddie's bottom lip, when there's some rustling behind him, a shocked gasp and Freddie punches the daylights out of him.

 _"Get off of me, you fucking faggot!"_

He can taste blood and he can taste dirt. Where there used to be a tender warm pressure on his lips, there's the jolt of the cold of night and swelling. Before he knows it, one of the scouters, whoever _found them_ , is grabbing him by the arm and yanking him up into his feet. He's a bit dazed, but even through the fog in his mind, he can spot Freddie's wild eyes, right behind the scouter. Freddie's lips are still moving, and even though he doesn't want to, he can still hear him over the ringing of his ears call him every dirty name under the sun that roughly translates to fag and pussy.

The Scoutmaster shakes him again and it knocks some sense into Danny, or at least enough survival instinct to start denying anything and everything Freddie is saying. No, he did not force himself on Freddie, they were just horsing around, no, he does not know why Freddie punched him. No, he is not _gay_ , so "stop touching me you stupid fucker! Or are you into kids now?!" Freddie lunges at him again and he has to defend himself this time, because the Scoutmaster sure as shit ain't doing anything to stop Freddie. Danny manages to kick Freddie on the knee before he grabs him again, but in the hustle he also looses his footing and ends up on the ground, flat on his ass, hands at his sides and the will to fight leaves him at once. Freddie is grabbing his knee for dear life and cursing under his breath like a sailor.

It must be all the swearing and the yelling match they had before that attracts the Cubmaster and Pauley to the fight. The Cubmaster takes one look at Danny, Freddie and the shell-shocked look on the Scoutmaster and calls it a night. Pauley goes to assist Freddie and the Cubmaster kneels next to Danny, asking about what happened. In all honesty, Danny doesn't know what or even _how_ to answer that.

 **#10**

After all is said and done, things are both simple and complicated. The Cubmaster ends up calling his parents from a public pay phone that's that's halfway to the exit gate. His parents are to pick him up now, as in _now_ , in the middle of the night even though they're a two-hour ride away. Freddie gets a pass (as far as Danny's concerned that's what it is) because he's the 'injured party', and he has a spotless record and is on track to get his Life patch, whatever that means. What pisses off Danny the most is that Freddie is not the one sporting a split lip; he'll have a sore knee tomorrow, tops.

The Cubmaster, his name turns out to be Eddie, just like his dad. And _oh, god, his dad, his mother!_ what the hell is he going to tell them, what are the _scouters_ going to tell them. _No, no. One terrible step at a time_ , he chides himself and straightens his back.

Eddie, the Cubmaster, helps him gather his stuff, the Scoutmaster and Pauley, keep all prying eyes away from him and his very, very, very shameful affairs. Once he has all his gear (and he really hopes he hasn't forgot a thing, because there's no way he's going to be able to get them back), Eddie grabs a flashlight, a bottle of water, some sandwiches that some kid put together and _walks_ him to the entrance of the park. The memory of having to walk past forty-odd curious eyes (and a few of them charged with disgust and contempt) will be etched into his memory by the blazing fire of embarrassment and injustice for the rest of his life, he just knows it.

Once they get to the entrance, there's nothing left but hope time passes quickly. Watching the moths fly into the false hope of the flashlight helps him take his mind off of things. Sort of.

 **#11**

After forty minutes of waiting or so, there's movement up the road and the night is clear enough that Danny can make out the silhouette of his Pop's truck approaching in a scurry of dust. He assumes his dad is the one driving, and there's someone on the front seat and Danny shudders to think whether it would be his Ma or somebody else. For a second he thinks it might be Freddie's dad and a cold shiver slices him front to back, making him feel weak in the knees. He buries his hands deeper into his jacket's pockets.

Once the truck stops, he can discern that the passenger is no other than his older sister, Stella, and alright, he would've preferred Ma, because that way he would've gotten yelled at in stereo for two hours straight all the way back to the house, and that would've probably been the end of it. If it's his Pop and big sis, then things are bad enough, or _indescribable_ enough, that he won't get yelled immediately or at all, and the waiting and the _not knowing_ make it so much worse.

When nobody gets off the truck, the Cubmaster approaches his dad through the window, he says a couple of words and there's a pause, as Pop exchanges a look with Stella. The Cubmaster makes way for his dad to get off the truck and Stella gives a stunned look at Danny through the windshield. She blinks her big baby-blues at him and scrambles off the truck, eating up the distance to Danny with quick definitive steps.

"Let me look at you, Danny," she says, tilting his face into the car headlights and hissing once she's able to fully appreciate the split at the corner of his lower lip. He's afraid to look into her eyes, but he does so anyway and wishes he hadn't. The light pours around her face like a halo, and through it all, he can see the pity in her eyes and immediately his chin trembles into a pout and he has to swallow a few times around the knot in his throat to stop himself from crying. Stella puts a tentative hand on his shoulder, gives him one last look and envelops him in a fierce hug that only a big sister could do.

In the meantime, the Cubmaster is having a quiet conversation with Pop. It sort of amazes Danny that this thing is so quiet in the middle of nowhere at this horrible time of night. Who are they going to bother, sleeping lizards? A part of him wishes both the scouter and his dad were yelling at the top of his lungs, red in the face and sweaty; his dad doing that arm-waving thing he does when he's truly and utterly angry. But they're not, it's all hushed conversation and thoughtful nods at the end. They finish with a firm handshake. (How civil, the demise of his life as he knows it, and nobody has the decency of put in the energy and drama he thinks it deserves). The Cubmaster doesn't even bother to say goodbye to Danny or Stella. His sister, on the other hand, takes it as her cue to put a hand at Danny's back and lead him into the truck on the back seat, next to his huge backpack, sliding it securely next to Danny. Danny ended up sitting right behind Stella and with a vantage point of view of his dad's face once he gets on the truck.

His Pop yanks the door open, slides in and slams the door closed. Not looking at either of them. He does a relaxed U turn at the gates of the park, like he didn't just drove to the middle of nowhere for almost two hours to pick up his son, and off they go.

Danny both wants and doesn't want to ask what the Cubmaster said. But everything is too quiet. The radio doesn't pick up any frequency this far out of the city and neither Stella nor Pop are saying anything. His sister alternates furtive looks from their Pop's face to the expanse of darkness outside.

Once they hit the asphalt of the highway, there's not a single other car in sight, and Danny catches his dad looking at him over the rear-view mirror. "Put your seatbelt on, Daniel," his Pop says and a second later he's peeling away from the dirt road into the direction of their home.

The fact that his Pop just called him 'Daniel' is in itself cause for concern; he only calls him by his name when something big is going on, usually because he's mad at him, or terribly disappointed in him. His mind wanders straight into the one time he was sure his father was going to disown him and can't quite contain the tears that keep lurking at the edge, one fat droplet runs down his left cheek and he wipes it away harsh enough to leave a red mark on his skin, right beneath the eye. His stomach churns and twists itself tighter and tighter with every passing minute. Up ahead, after maybe thirty minutes of silent driving, he can see the headlights of and oncoming car. It's a light-colored sedan that comes and goes with a muted swish as it goes past them. The only sound outside their own breathing and chaffing of clothes to fill up the space since they picked him up.

 **#12**

It's a bit more than an hour later and his eyes prickle like crazy, a tear catching on his eyelashes as he tries to blink himself back to neutral. But it's impossible; he keeps seeing Freddie behind his eyelids, as he closes the distance between them and kisses him on the lips. Another wave of embarrassment hits him from the chest and spreads up, making his cheeks blush a deep crimson, giving him no other choice than to turn his head towards the window, forcing himself to focus on what's outside and beyond the mess of the situation. How the hell did this happen?

The truck comes to a sudden stop and Danny realizes with a start they're in front of the house. His Pop still won't look at him, but hasn't turned off the ignition either, so Danny stays rooted to his spot, head bowed and hands at his sides, the only thing audible is the rumble of the truck, the vibrations keeping Danny in the present. Stella does pretty much the same, looking straight ahead into their house. Then, that too stops as his Pop takes the keys off and unbuckles his seatbelt. Danny's head snaps up, looking for his Pop's eyes, a sign, something, anything that means he's not about to leave without even acknowledging Danny, but if his father can't even bring himself to yell at him, to look at him, then… _fuck it, fuck it all_. Danny hits the button of his seatbelt and opens the door at the same time, getting out of the truck so fast he almost makes himself dizzy. His feet hit the pavement and gain speed as he gets closer to the house, his Ma' comes to the door but he barges in and runs for his bedroom, his Ma' and Stella calling his name behind him.

He runs up the stairs and dives for his room. It's already past midnight and it is a testament to how much he has upset their household life that Mattie is still up, not even in his PJs, sitting on his own bed, paging through a magazine, lollipop dangling from his mouth.

Danny storms through the door and Mattie's eyes go wide in shock, and then fear.

"Danny, your face! What happened?! Why are you crying? Who hit you?!" Mattie's kneeling on the bed now, gripping the foot frame hard, magazine and lollipop forgotten and fallen to the floor.

Danny can't even begin to explain what happened, much less to his younger brother. Another wave of shame hits him, like a bucket of ice inside his stomach and he can't help it anymore, the tears roll down freely as he covers his face with both hands and sits down hard on the floor in the space between his bed and the wall, turning his back to Mattie.

Mattie jumps out of bed and runs out of their bedroom. "Mom! There's something wrong with Danny, Mom! Mom!"

Danny keeps on sobbing into his hands, until the warm softness of his mother's embrace hugs him from the side and rocks him a little, much like she has done for every one of her children since they were born. He doesn't know how long they spend like that, but it's enough that his shuddering sobs settle down for a sniffle every once in a while. His Ma pouring kisses at the top of his head.

"I didn't mean to scare Mattie." Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth and not at all what he needs to say. He wants to apologize for everything he's put them through, ever; setting fire to the backyard, leaving Mattie alone for an hour one night, so he could go smoke a joint with some friends, stealing beer from the house and then letting Stella take the fall, falling in love for a boy. He sniffles again for good measure and swallows back the sobs that threaten to come back again.

"Oh, Danny. Come here." She rocks him with renewed conviction and gives him a kiss on his forehead. "I love you, honey. I do. Please don't cry anymore, you're breaking my heart, sweetheart. Calm down and tell me what happened instead."

"I'm sorry—" He starts sobbing again. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

"Shh, baby, what are you sorry for?" She rests her head on top of Danny's and stills. No more rocking.

"I— I— I can't say it, Ma." She starts drawing circles on his shoulder and part of his back, so he focuses on that. "I'll change, I promise I'll be better, I swear, just don't make me say it, please." She hugs him tighter.

"Shh, it's alright, calm down. I'm not mad at you, hone. Calm down. How about I tell you what I think happened, okay?" He nods, because even if it is a bit of an indignity to have his mother spell out his wrongdoings for him, it's also something he thinks he needs to hear. "I think you and Freddie had a great summer, and you became friends by doing a lot of things together and sharing similar interests, a lot like your father and I did when we were young. And then something happened at camp that made you want to try something new." Danny squirms under her arms and squeezes his eyes shut. He was wrong, he doesn't want to relive this, ever again. "And then Freddie felt ashamed and lashed out at you for it. Am I close?" He nods again, hanging on to his mother's arms like life depends on it. "And then he blamed you for it?" He nods as hot tears run down his face, he still doesn't open his eyes. "Oh, Danny, I'm so sorry. My beautiful boy, that shouldn't have happened." He bawls his eyes out. A moan gets ripped out of his chest and hurts his throat on the way out.

His Ma rocks him from side to side again. Holding him in her arms with a firm but gentle touch, shushing him from above, dropping kisses on top of his hair every now and then, until his tears dry up and he sighs deep and lets it all out in one shivering breath.

"I thought you were going to yell at me. I thought you were going to be mad," Danny says after a while, feeling small and torn up inside.

"Danny, we've never said anything, but I think you're old enough now, and maybe you should have known sooner. Do you remember my brother Rudy?" Danny nods with downcast eyes, trying to loose himself on the patterns of the floor.

"Didn't he went to Europe or something?"

"Well, yes, but more important," she says, inhaling so deep, Danny can feel the rise of her chest and it makes him breathe deeply too. "My brother is gay. Do you know what that means?" She punctuates every word with a gentle press of her hands against his chest, still hugging him from the side. Her voice next to his ear.

"Uh-huh."

"Okay, so, he was gay, and he took a lot of shit for it— I know, I know, swearing is bad for the soul, but that's the right way of saying it. So just between you and me, I'm gonna swear a lot telling this story, okay?" A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. His Ma was the one that taught him how to properly swear, how to string word after word into a filthy sentence, there's not a thing he has learnt about being an 'insufferable' boy, that his Ma didn't teach him.

"So, as I was saying, he's gay. He took a lot of shit. Kids pestered him constantly at school, and grandpa did too. Everybody felt so offended because he didn't care for baseball or football or none of those things. He liked playing the piano—" And yeah, he has a faint memory of that. Brown pants and shiny shoes at his grandpa's house. A wide smile and hair being ruffled. His hair.

"I remember that."

"Yeah, when you were little he used to sit you on his lap and play the piano for you, for Stella too." Danny's mother remembers it with fondness on her heart. The first time she caught him doing it her heart soared. "Anyway, he didn't like things that boys are supposed to like and that made assholes like the kids at school angry and confused. People don't like not knowing, so when they don't understand they get angry, Danny. Rudy had an awful time in school because he was different and we didn't even know what gay meant back then, he was just, different, nothing else. And then one day he sat me and uncle Sal down, and said, ' _Clara, Sal, I prefer man. You either take it or you leave it, but if you don't accept me I'm gone_.' He didn't say this to anybody else. Just me and Sal. And it was hard at first to try and understand, but then we realized he was just… Rudy, the same funny, silly Rudy, with his awful pranks and terrible at math, always happy, always quick to help, just my brother." Her hair tickles Danny on his neck and ear. He leans a bit more on her. He thinks he knows where this is going. "Just like you will always be my son, my beautiful Danny, the light of my eyes, one of the four reasons I wake up every morning with a smile on my face… You get what I'm saying, kiddo?" It was like seeing the first sun-rays of spring after a cold, gloomy winter. He sighs.

"Yeah."

"No, don't give me none of that teenager _yeah-yeah_. I mean it, Danny. I love you, with all my heart, always, as soon as I knew I was expecting you I started loving you. You're mine, honey, I will always, always, always love you, no matter what, and I'll protect you to the best of my ability. I'm always cheering for you. _Always_. And if it wasn't terribly frowned up, I would punch Freddie right on the nose for hurting my baby, you got it?" He chuckles at the image, he doesn't put it past her to get petty revenge some other way. He nods his understanding and immediately turns to properly hug his Ma, even if it means almost sitting on her lap like the little kid he isn't anymore.

"I'm still sorry." He has to swallow back the tears that threaten to make an appearance again.

"Nothing to be sorry about." She presses her hands on the sides of his face an makes it as if she's washing it, caressing his hair back and out of his face. "Now, we are going to go into the bathroom and I'm gonna get that lip taken care of. Then we're going down, you're eating something and off to bed. How's that sound?"

There's a faint knock on the door and Mattie appears there, hanging to the door knob awkwardly and insecure. Barefoot and on his jammies. Stella or Dad must have changed him.

"Is Danny okay, Ma? Can I hug him too?"

"Sure thing, bro, c'mere," says Danny, opening his arms big and wide for the eight year-old goof he has the honour of calling his brother. Mattie doesn't waste a second as he dashes through the room and almost knocks the air out of Danny when he throws himself at him. At the corner of his eye, Danny can see his Ma wiping a tear on her cheek with the hem of her t-shirt and when she notices him noticing her, she smiles her sweet smile and for a moment, Danny thinks everything is going to be okay.

 **#13**

Mattie has been put to bed and his Ma has marched him to the bathroom down the hall. Downstairs he can hear the faint voices of his Pop and big sister, probably in the kitchen, and it stirs up some nasty feelings he very much wants to ignore, except he can't, not really.

She has him sitting down at the edge of the tub, face tilted upwards as she dabs a cotton ball on Betadine.

"Ma, do you think Pop is mad at me?"

She frowns. "What makes you say that?"

"He… he didn't say anything to me the whole way. It was like I didn't even exist. Not even Stella." He unconsciously bites his lip and flinches as the pain shoots up. "He's ashamed of me, isn't he?"

His mother slumps her shoulders and sits down on the toilet, managing to keep the Betadine from dripping on the floor.

"Danny, your dad, he's…." She slumps further. And Danny thinks he doesn't have it in him to see his Ma defeated, not like this. "You know how people always say you and Gina are so much like me, and Stella, like dad?" He nods. "Well, you, Gina, and I, Danny, we feel, we feel a lot and we show it, if we're shocked, or angry, or happy, or sad, or anything at all, we say it, we name it, we explode if we have to, and we don't give much thought to that, right? We just go ahead and take the risk, trusting that we'll be on good hands once we get to the other side. Dad and Stella? Not so much, the ruminate on things; they'll think it over and over again. Until your dad gets an ulcer and needs to be poked and prodded into going to the doctor, yeah?"

Danny nods, once. And his Ma continues talking. "They feel too, don't get me wrong, very deep and private, and it takes them a while to get their feelings sorted and out to the surface. You notice how they don't say much, until they actually say something and it's like four words and we all stay quiet, because, my god, the things they say? Were we run and dive head first hoping to get across just fine, they test the waters, practice on the shore, and then carefully dive in and cross the lake at first try. Does it make sense?"

Danny shrugs one shoulder and contemplates the mirror behind his mom. "Guess so."

"Your dad wants you to know that he loves you, and that he's proud of you, always, but he doesn't know how to say it yet. He's shocked, Danny, but don't confuse that with not loving you, or being angry, okay? Give him some space, let him test the waters; he loves you, he hasn't processed all this yet. At least give him the benefit of the doubt until he can say it better, yeah?"

"Okay." He whispers back, tilting his head into the light. His Ma goes to work on his lip then, it stings a little at first, the cleaning, and then the antiseptic, but he's glad when his Ma declares no butterfly stitches will be necessary.

After that, it takes a few days for Stella to warm up to him again, give him a fierce bear hug and say "I've got you, lil' bro." And at least another week for his Pop to take him out on a drive to some bullshit grocery run and tell him that he loves him, no matter what. They have ice-cream and talk baseball after that.

 **#14**

 _"You doing alright there partner?"_

Danny blinks himself back to the present, the Boy Scouts a distant memory getting farther and farther away by the millisecond, as he emerges, Ka'a'wa Valley comes into focus at a distance to his right. He has no idea how long he zoned out.

They're on the back of a cruiser, on their way to the hospital to get Danny checked out. There was a brief argument about whether Steve should go to Tripler himself or not, because of the blow to his forehead, but then a police officer who had been a nurse at some point in the past, did a neuro check and got him off the hook, while also being adamant that Danny should definitely go to the hospital and get antibiotics, at the very least. Danny's fate was sealed; Steve was just coming for the ride into town and an opportunity to rile Danny up on the way.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired, you know?"

"Yeah, right back at ya. So, you gonna tell me how you manage to get kicked out of Boy Scouts, or what?"

The Likelike Highway is pleasantly deserted and the city is coming up fast, if they keep up their speed they'll be at Queens in fifteen minutes. Danny looks up front, to the back of the head of the officer. Steve's kinda Danny's boyfriend, but they still don't want the world to know and this is not one of those stories he wants to share with everybody either, just Steve.

"Fine, but—" Steve rolls his eyes, making him stutter a bit on his laying down of the conditions. " _But_ , you have to go with me to the hospital, I'll go insane if I have to wait alone on those stupid chairs."

Steve huffs a laugh and grabs his own belly, smile spreading well into his eyes, making the gauze on his forehead crinkle around the tape.

"Of course, Danno, I got you covered."

Danny can't help but to smile back.

"Alright then, it all started with this guy, Frederick Johnson, actually no, it started with his uncle being my Pop's brother-in-arms at the firehouse, those two where like this." He crosses his fingers on one hand to show Steve.

"Close."

"No, more than close, you know, brothers-in—"

"Arms. Got it."

"So, they had this thing, like a barbecue? And there I was bored out of my mind and miserable, because, you know, I was a teenager, what you gonna do about that, am I right? Then this kid walks in, his uncle had him by the back of his neck, nothing rough, but you know, like saying, _look at this punk_. Anyway, he marches him down to the middle of the station and gets the attention of other firemen around and presents him as Freddie, his nephew, the kid who almost burnt down his entire troop at the last overnight camping trip and a hush falls into the room, because…"

"Don't fucking play with the fucking fire."

"Yeah, well put, babe. So, that's Freddie, and he and I became friends…."

* * *

 **FINAL NOTES:**

a) Thank you for reading, really hope you enjoyed it.

b) That "James kid" the scouters talk about refers the "Boy Scouts of America Vs. DALE" case: The Boy Scouts of America revoked former Eagle Scout and assistant scoutmaster James Dale's adult membership when the organization discovered that Dale was a homosexual and a gay rights activist. In 1992, Dale filed suit against the Boy Scouts, alleging that the Boy Scouts had violated the New Jersey statute prohibiting discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation in places of public accommodation. The Boy Scouts, a private, not-for-profit organization, asserted that homosexual conduct was inconsistent with the values it was attempting to instil in young people.


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